Wanted
by rebeldiamondsx
Summary: A collection of sexy moments in time with our favorite superhero and his favorite girls. PP/MJ, PP/GS; sexual content. Formerly "Trouble".
1. An Explanatory Note

**:An Explanatory Note:**

I've been a closet Spiderman nerd for years, but the latest Spiderman film has given me quite a few wicked ideas and the courage to bring them to paper. Here's a collection of smutty little one-shots featuring our friendly neighborhood Spiderman and his leading ladies. Despite the character listing, quite a few of these stories will feature Mary Jane.

I've not given up on FaD, so if you're waiting for updates, rest assured the little Jokachel gears in my head are ticking away.

A warning (or an invitation) to all: these are all basically sex. Don't like, don't read. Some of them will be kinky, some of them _very_ kinky. I might even throw in some fluff. This will be updated sporadically and will not always be perfectly canon or in line with the plots of the films. Most will have accompanying musical suggestions.

A little explanation for the name change - I stumbled upon a wonderful story with the same premise under the same name (cue facepalm). Given that I'd rather the two of us not be confused, I've switched it up a little. Hope this doesn't mess up anything.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, reviews and favorites are appreciated.

Much love,

Your friendly neighborhood RebelDiamonds


	2. High for This

**:High for This:**

_A/N: Peter and Gwen – what a sexy pair those two make. What happens when they manage to find a moment alone? My inspiration: "High for This", The Weeknd._

Sunset in New York illuminated the city with orange rays, touching every surface, glinting off the chrome and marble. Shadows lengthened, spread, and floated across Gwen Stacy's bedroom, prodding at her gently through her windows. They shone onto the collage on her wall – all of his rescues, newspaper clippings, photos – as she reached out with unsteady hands to touch them. Her hair fell into her eyes as she bit her lip. Her anticipation was growing; she couldn't help but anxiously wait. He was her everything. If she had never known love before, this must've been it. No one had ever told her she would grow to need someone she could lose in a heartbeat. No one had ever taught her how much the other person _mattered_.

The setting sun glimmered onto Peter Parker, too, his hands adeptly fastening himself into his suit. From his position on top of an apartment building, he could see the city for every peak and valley there was. The concrete metropolis lay in front of him, as if waiting expectantly. It really was gorgeous, too, Manhattan with its gritty, yet tangible beauty. It was now his charge, his duty, to protect it. To keep its beauty unmarred – him, and him alone… _to keep away from her_, he reminded himself. But it was too late now; they were too far gone.

He understood, then, why it was that heroes worked alone. Why they never let anyone in. Love _hurt_; it was stretching him out past what he thought he could take. The thought of losing Gwen had almost cost him his sanity, but without her he felt worthless, like there was nothing worth fighting for. She was his purpose, the one person he would always work to prove himself to. She was his driving force, and sometimes, it felt, the only reason he was alive. The reassurance her love gave him renewed him and kept him going. She was worth the risk.

With one breath of finality, he pulled his mask on, shuddering as the cool inside connected with his skin. Opening his eyes, he allowed himself to focus, outstretching his wrist and letting his web collide with the wall of the building closest. Pushing off, he let adrenaline resume its control, soaring through the sky, riding the buildings like his beloved skateboard. His mind was set on one thing and one thing only – reaching her, getting to her, being with her. Her face flickered into his mind, with her blonde hair and infectious smile. _One thing._

Gwen grazed her fingers over the glass of her window once more, wrapping one arm around herself. She forced herself to breathe, almost letting the nervousness and excitement override her. Her breath quickened as soon as she saw that familiar flash of red – his suit against the auburn light was even more striking than she could imagine. His fingertips connected with the fire escape, launching himself up. She pulled open the window to let him in.

As soon as his feet hit the ground he pulled her into his arms, pressing his head against the hollow of her neck. _That scent_ – lilac, shampoo, ink, and something else that was so entirely _Gwen_ – tugged at him, building a fire in his stomach. He tipped her chin up, brushing his hands ever so slightly over her face. Interlacing his fingers with hers, he led her out the fire escape. He pulled them so his back was to her bedroom, her body standing right against the city.

"I have something I want to show you," he whispered as the cold air began to whip around them. "Wrap your arms around me."

Gwen nodded, her heart hammering away in her throat. She hugged him tightly, not daring to let go.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded, her decision resolute in her eyes. She knew that was not simply a decision to accompany him – it was a decision to accept him, all of him, for whatever the cost.

"I'm right here," he assured her, one arm outstretched as they plunged down suddenly, falling further and further, the concrete and glass becoming a whirr as her stomach knotted. Barely resisting the urge to scream, her sharp intake of breath was quite audible as they almost plummeted to the road, his web springing them up at the very last moment.

And then – she was flying, too, experiencing this unique glimpse into Peter's world, her eyes glimmering with a childlike exuberance as she discovered New York like she never had before. Her body flooding with something entirely new, she laughed, feeling just how safe she felt in his arms even though they were one broken web away from their deaths.

This, whatever it was, was the faith she had in him; letting him know just how ready she was to trust him with her life, with her love.

"Close your eyes."

"Peter, we're hundreds of feet above the ground!" she protested.

"I know. Close your eyes." She could practically hear his smirk. _Typical. _

Resting her cheek on his shoulder, she gasped as her feet suddenly touched something solid. "Peter?" His hand grasped hers firmly.

"Okay, open."

As her eyes opened, her irises took in her surroundings. The sun was setting just over the horizon as Peter held her close. The whole city stretched out in front of them, every inch of its skyline, and just below and above her her feet his web stretched, making it impossible for her to fall or for anyone to see them. This was one of the very few places in New York she could honestly say she had never been to.

"We're on top of the Brooklyn Bridge, aren't we," she stated, in awe.

"Too much?" he asked, nervously.

She turned to face him. "Never."

Tugging the mask off him, she kissed every available inch of skin, brushing her lips across his neck and enjoying his sharp intake of breath, right up to his lips. She nipped gently at him, sucking his lip into her mouth, tangling his tongue with hers until the mask finally fell, gracefully landing on the web. His unruly mane and flushed expression made her giggle, running her fingers through his hair.

"Oh no, you don't," he growled, raining kisses on her neck and sucking. He brushed her bangs out of her eyes as he gently laid her on the web. He worked his way down her neck to her collarbone, unbuttoning her blouse and genuinely enjoying the blush that had been working its way down her body. She shivered as he reached the third button, revealing a bit of cleavage. Focusing his eyes on hers, he laid hot open-mouthed kisses on her chest, pulling her shirt off completely. He pulled the straps of her bra down her shoulder, reveling in every bit of her. The bra mercifully came with a front clasp, which he easily undid, leaving her half naked and so totally _his_ for the taking.

God, she was stunning, wasn't she? Almost ethereal. Her hair fanned out like a halo, her blue eyes stared up into his expectantly and ardently. The white- hot lust was heavy in him again, spreading through him. She was electrifying, waking up every nerve and sending his brain into overdrive.

She pressed her lips to his ear – "I want you, Peter Parker" – and it was more a command than anything else.

"Then have me."

He let her pull off the top half of his costume, her hands exploring his chest, softly sliding up his sides. He lowered his lips to her breasts, heaving below him, sucking on a nipple and delighting in her quickened breath. Teasing her other nipple with his fingers, he flicked his tongue against her – _yes, right there, oh, don't stop_ – adoring the tortured moan that tumbled from those full lips of hers.

His other hand grabbed at the zipper of her skirt, pulling it down…

"Parker, I'm not done with you yet," she warned, turning them around so she was now on top, her body now facing the quickly arriving night. She could feel him straining against her, he wanted her so _badly_, right there and right then, but she was determined. Her hair pooled across his stomach as she steadily worked him out of his costume, left only in his tight blue boxers.

Glancing at him in awe, she was struck by how handsome he was. His irises were dilated, cheeks flushed, fingers itching to touch her – but it was those eyes, so heady with protectiveness and desire, which drove her almost over the edge.

"Do you want me?" she asked, innocently.

His eyes raked over her, from her limpid eyes to her tempting lips, her breasts, her stomach, her skirt hitched up over her thighs, baring enough to make him go crazy… and he barely managed to reply.

"More than you could ever imagine," he choked out, licking his lips.

"Then have me," she echoed him, and pulled the skirt over her head. He flipped them over again, tracing his hands under the seam of her panties, pulling them down her silky legs, taking a moment to admire her. _Naked, she's even more beautiful,_ he thought, _as if that's even possible_. Releasing himself from his boxers, he placed himself at her entrance, pushing her thighs apart.

He interwove his hand with hers as he thrust into her, and they could almost _see _the fireworks, exploding and cracking in their eyes. He built up a steady rhythm, his blood boiling as she mewled in pleasure, plunging into her with a steadiness that belied his passion. She slung her legs around him, allowing him in deeper, and cried out again – the knot in the pit of her stomach tying and untying itself over and over. One night was not enough. _Nothing will ever be enough._

He built himself up again, boring his eyes into hers, silently demanding she look at him as he brought her to the brink, his fingers playing with her as her eyes widened. She _wailed_ in pleasure – "Don't… don't stop!"

He buried himself deep inside her, letting her nails rake up his back, feeling her clench around him, bringing them to the very end…

"_Peter_," she begged, and that was all it took. They exploded, elating in their waves of yearning, every moment surging through them, each second speaking a thousand volumes. He let her ride out her pleasure, every little movement making him hypersensitive, resonating in him that _he _had done this, _he _had made her feel like this.

They panted, coming down from their high_._ He kissed her again as her arms wrapped themselves around him. A hundred feet above the ground, naked in the cold, she had never felt safer.

"I love you, Gwen Stacy."

"And I you, Peter Parker."

"Always and forever."


	3. Devil in a Red Dress

**:Devil in a Red Dress:**

_A/N: Poor Peter goes crazy. Peter in a less serious, hormone-crazy perspective. PP/GS. Inspiration: "Devil in a New Dress (feat. Rick Ross)", Kanye West. Let me know if you want the same story in Gwen's perspective!_

It was that red dress. That too-tight, curve-hugging, cleavage-exposing red dress. The one I swear I'm gonna burn as soon as I can get my fucking hands on it.

Currently, it's Gwen Stacy, the object of my masturbatory fantasies and (rather unbelievably) my _girlfriend_, wearing – no, _rocking_ – that dress. Her blonde hair spilling over it, her tiny waist and long legs barely covered by the fabric, not to mention her breasts currently fighting a war with her ass over who'll murder me first.

Oh God, if you're out there – why the hell are you trying to make me suffer like this?

It had started off rather innocuously, too. I'd spent all day trying my hardest not to burn anything as I made dinner (surprise, surprise, Spiderman cooks). I tried all the romantic things girls are supposed to like, too – candles on a perfectly set table, a bunch of flowers in a vase, hell, I was even wearing a suit. What can I say? I try.

"So, one year, huh?" Aunt May gave me a once-over, from my never-in-fucking-place hair to my obviously-scuffed shoes, and grinned.

"Yeah, I really am a lucky guy," I replied, seriously meaning it. Gwen was incredible – not only was she absolutely fucking gorgeous, she was one of the only girls who had been able to out-nerd me and make me laugh. Not only that, but she _understood_ the Spiderman part of me. She embraced it, supported me, and kept me grounded. I'm really under her spell. Hell, I'd do practically anything for her. Or _to_ her.

"Or she's a lucky girl," she said, winking at me.

With that, the doorbell rang. "I think this is my cue to leave," she laughed, tugging on her overcoat and going to the back door. "Enjoy, Peter."

"Bye, Aunt May!" I made my way to the front door, making sure to try and fix myself however well I could. There I am, carrying flowers and fidgeting with my tie like the awkward fuck I am, when I tug open the door.

Right there, on my front porch, my eyes land on a pair of black high heels. My eyes travel further up, taking in shapely, tanned calves, silky-smooth thighs, and then her grab-worthy hips, small waist, perky breasts – all clad in that red dress. I drink in the slit going up her thigh, the tightness across her ass, her breasts clad in a plunging v-neckline, the two straps trying their hardest to stay on.

_Holy fucking shit_.

"H-hi Gwen," I say to the _goddess_ standing in front of me. My voice must've went up a few fucking octaves, too, damn it. "You look… great," I choke out. "Come in."

She smiles her cat-who-ate-the-canary smile; as if she knows exactly what effect she's having on me. Her navy eyes flicker with amusement as she saunters into the house.

"Peter." She laughs too – what a gorgeous sound that is. "Are those for me?"

"What?" I say, obviously distracted. I mean, who wouldn't be? The things I wanted to do to her right now…

"The flowers?" She gives me a you're-a-dumbshit look. How familiar that look is to me. Particularly when I'm fucking mesmerized by how badly I need to rip that goddamn thing off her.

"What?" Wow. Smooth, Parker, real smooth. "Uh, yeah." I hold them out to her, twelve red roses the exact same color as her dress and, I'm sure, my cheeks right now. The color _her_ cheeks need to be right now.

She smiles – this time, genuinely. "These are beautiful. Thank you." She leans over to kiss me, her pillowy lips connecting with mine. I'm seeing sparks right now. Jesus, what this girl does to me…

"Yeah, no problem." She even smells gorgeous. Like flowers and ink and all the good things in the world. I don't even know how to describe it. It's just making all the blood in my body flow south. "Let's go?" I lead her down the hallway, grinning like the idiot I am.

She tucks the flowers into a vase near the front door and takes my hand. "Smells great," she smirks as her fingers wrap around mine.

"So, bug boy can cook?" she asks, as I lead her down the hallway and into the dining room.

As I tug out a chair for her to park that perfect ass on, I find enough charm to come up with a semi-witty response. "Everyone has their secrets."

Alright, Parker, your brain seems to still have some function to it. Let's see if you can get through this night without losing your mind. Or blowing your load all over the table. Concentrate on making this night _special_, not getting a hard-on. Admittedly, though, that's a difficult task.

I help her get into the seat – amazingly she manages to do this without (unfortunately) revealing any bit of herself whatsoever. I rush back into the kitchen, nearly ripping the oven door open to make sure I haven't burned anything. Aunt May's left me with quite a few orders so that everything goes perfect, but to my dismay there's still about ten minutes until the chicken's ready.

I don't think I'm going to last that long. I walk back into the dining room, where Gwen's sitting expectantly.

Fuck.

I'm trying my hardest to keep my eyes on her face. She's looking at me with that all-knowing expression.

"Peter… I can't believe you went through all this trouble just for me," she says. She's practically _glowing_ in the candlelight. This is bad.

"Oh, um, Gwen, honestly – it's no big deal, not at all. I mean, it's our anniversary, and you're so worth it." I swear I must be gaping at her like a fucking fish. Composure, Parker, composure. If you can take down a frigging lizard man and save the whole damn city of New York, you can sit through one anniversary dinner with your girlfriend.

She smiles, but then looks at me uncertainly. "Is something wrong?" she asks, licking her lips. God, the things I've thought about doing to those lips…

I'm thrown off. _Does she know?! _"What? Um, no, nothing's wrong. W-why do you ask?"

"You've been staring at me since the minute I walked in the door."

I really want to die right now. Is it really that obvious? "I just want everything to be perfect," I manage to choke out, and it's true.

"Peter," she says softly as she makes her way toward me, "it already is." God, she has the ability to unmake me when she talks like that. I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her forehead.

"Wait here, I think the food is done." I give her one last squeeze as I rush back into the kitchen.

Aunt May, you are a genius. The chicken looks fucking perfect. I take it out of the oven, only burning myself twice, before plating it. I can hear her voice in my head – "Patience, Peter!" – and make everything look flawless. Carrying the two plates back to the dining room, I place Gwen's right in front of her.

I sit down right in front of her – a terrible choice, it turns out, because from right here I have the most unbelievably amazing view of those two soft, perky…

"This is really good," she says, cutting me out of my thoughts. I haven't even touched my plate… too busy staring.

"Oh. Hah, um, thanks." Where has your vocabulary gone, Parker? Where? "How's your job been going?"

"It's great. Really great, actually. I love working in the field – they're really complex formulas that the doctor's creating and I think that they honestly do have a chance of reaching the stage where…" she continues on. Ordinarily I'd be hanging on to every word she says but tonight I can't even formulate a response other than nodding.

I'm running on autopilot, eating while she's talking, and with every word my pants are getting tighter. Her breasts rise with each breath, she's pursing and biting and licking her lips, twirling her hair around her fingers, like she's seriously trying to drive me into Bellevue Psych.

In my head, I'm standing her up, bending her over this table and fucking her senseless. I'm ripping that red dress to shreds, exposing every little inch of skin. I'm thinking about those red, full lips wrapped around my cock, taking me in as far as I'll go. I really need to get my head between her legs, part those soft thighs and get my tongue wrapped all up in her…

It then clicks into my head that she's stopped talking. I jolt out of my fantasies and realize she's staring at me.

"Peter, have you listened to a single word I've said?"

Oh, _fuck_. "Um…"

She crosses her arms over her chest. "What the hell is up with you? You've been completely off all evening."

I am so, so royally screwed. Suddenly, a torrent of word vomit escapes me, pouring out every excuse I can think of. "Look, Gwen, I'm so sorry… I just, I don't know, I mean, like, I just got completely wrapped up in my thoughts and, well, I mean, you know, thinking about how badly I want to rip that dress off you and fuck you senseless and I mean, _shit_."

Did I seriously just say that out loud? Holy shit. I've officially screwed things up again. Why can't I just keep my mouth shut?!

She's looking at me with an unreadable expression on her face. "Is that what you've been thinking about doing? Fucking me senseless?"

"I mean, you look… fucking irresistible. I mean, you always look great, but today, I just, I mean, Christ, Gwen."

She gets up and takes a few steps toward me. "Is that what you think?"

I swallow the bait. "Yes."

She walks up to me, her hand on my chest. "Then fuck me senseless."

Excuse me for a second, I think all the blood in my body just went to my dick. With a growl, I pick her up, her legs wrapping around my waist, her dress riding up just so. Her hair's falling across her face.

"I am going to _destroy_ you, Gwen Stacy."

She moans as I throw her down on the dining room table, her legs still coiled around me. I'm biting and sucking at her lips, those plump red lips that I'm going to have do dirty, nasty things to. Her tongue is curling around mine. My hands are grabbing at her ass, searching upwards, everywhere at once.

"How do you get this damn thing off?"

At long last I find the zipper and tug down. Every inch revealed makes me even more hard, all that peaches and cream skin. I tug it down to her waist, revealing two beautiful, soft tits hiding behind a bra that should be illegal. Black, lacy, and completely transparent. I'm fucking salivating.

"More…" She begs me.

"Hell yes, baby," I grant.

I rip the bra off, literally tearing it to shreds. God damn, they're perfect. My thumb brushes over one hardened peak. She mewls. _Yes._ My tongue is swirling around her nipple; the other one rolling between my fingers.

"Come on, Gwen, moan for me," I demand.

Once I've nearly had my fill of those delicious tits of hers, I work my way down her abdomen, pulling the dress down as I go, finally landing at the hem at a pair of matching panties – a thong, even.

Grabbing the lace strap of her thong, I tease her. "Now, what am I going to do with these?"

Her pupils are dilated, her breath coming in bursts. "Off," she manages.

"I'm sorry, I can't understand you. What exactly do you want?" I ask, smirking.

"Take my panties off. Go down on me," she moans.

"So demanding," I say, finally sliding the last article of clothing down her body. "Thankfully for you, I'm feeling like granting that request."

It takes all my strength not to bury my face in between her legs. Patience, Parker, patience. Make her beg for you. My fingers are nipping at her folds. "Fuck, you're wet," I note, sliding a thumb across her clit. Her reaction is enough to spur me forward; pressing my mouth to her, digging my tongue into her honeyed heat.

"Peter!"

_Hell yes, baby._ "Sing for me, Gwen."

I'm fucking her with my tongue, loving every minute of it, watching as she flushes with pleasure. Her hips gyrate, her hands pulling at my head, trying to grind herself as close to me as possible.

"Peter, I'm going to come!"

"Come," I grant her. She's exploding, collapsing, and I fucking love it. I've never been this ready in my life. Watching as she comes down from her orgasm, she looks at me with pure hunger in her eyes.

She lunges at me, unbuttoning my shirt with a surprising dexterity, pulling my tie over my head and throwing my jacket to the side. Her nimble hands pull open my belt, dropping my pants down.

One layer. She can see how rock hard I am, how much I _need_ her; my arousal's almost painful, and I'm so ready to indulge my life-long fantasy of fucking her mouth.

Pulling my cock out, she gives me a naughty look before licking its length.

_Fuck._ "Gwen!"

She swirls her tongue around the tip, enjoying as I absolutely melt in her mouth. Then she surprises me and takes the whole thing in her throat. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ She's sucking, pumping, licking, _shit_, this isn't enough, I have to _have her_.

"Gwen, stop." She looks at me with my cock still in her mouth. I want to keep that image in my head forever. In fact, she's never looked better. But I need her at this point, I need to be in her, the desire to fuck her senseless is taking over and I am insatiable.

I turn her around, her ass facing me, and throw her down onto the table, entering her.

"Shit, you're tight," I groan, pumping myself in.

"Peter!" She cries out as I fuck her harder.

More, more, more. I will never have enough, feeling her tight pussy clench around me, milking my cock for all it's got. I'm buried deep inside her. God, yes, I feel her wetness trailing down me. More.

She's _wailing_ in pleasure. I turn her around and draw open her legs, enjoying the sight of my dick disappearing inside her cunt. My eyes roam over her body hungrily, my hands claw at her breasts. _Mine_.

"You're mine, Gwen. All mine," I say, matching each word with a deeper thrust and rubbing her clit as I speak.

"Yes, yours," she says, grinding her hips down onto me.

"Say my name," I order.

"Peter…"

"Louder."

"Peter!"

"Louder."

"Peter!" she screams, and comes. That's enough to push me over the edge, and I lose it, emptying myself into her as she convulses around my cock. We're falling over the edge, and I'm loving every fucking minute of it.

When we come down from our highs, catching our breaths, she looks up at me and grins. "I think I'm going to wear that dress a lot more from now on."

I laugh. "Don't you even think about it."


End file.
